Bleeding Vein
by Beloveddreamer
Summary: Tartarus was on the move before anyone was aware of it. The year prior to Team Tenrou returning, a dark guild under Sayla's power kidnapped a young mage, and experimented on her. A year later that same girl has finally broken free of their hold, and she has a score to settle. OC.


**Hiya! For new readers, welcome! For those who are familiar with my other FT fic, I'M SORRY. I know, I know, I know. I should definitely _not_ be starting a new story, when I haven't posted to Thrashing Spirits in two months. But rest assured, I WILL get around to it, it's just the muse hasn't really been with me for LaLu lately. Have patience my loves, you lasted a year, another week or two isn't going to matter... I hope... Anyway, this is my new multi-chapter story, and it will feature an OC as the main character. Eventually I'm going to pair her with *someone* and I will put up a poll once she gets to Fairy Tail to decide who that someone shall be. I will probably switch between first person and third person during later chapters, but rest assured, there will be page breaks to display when. Now, without further adieu, let the story begin.**

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><p>My breath came out in harsh pants as I poorly navigated the snow-swept town. I was receiving odd looks from onlookers actually dressed for the winter that had blanketed the country, however none stopped to ask if I required help, and I was glad for that. Glancing down, I realised that my bare feet were quickly turning an odd shade of blue, and were still leaving a trail of red behind me. Despite this, I wasn't worried about anyone from <em>there<em> following me, after all, those that had been keeping watch over me were all dead now. _That_ particular thought brought me to a halt. After all that time, I was finally free. No more threats, no more 'lessons'… no more pain. The smile that graced my face from that thought no doubt looked like something out of a horror story, with the blood that caked my cheeks and mouth. Disregarding the fact that I probably looked like a creature of the night, I continued to move through the frigid air, if at a more controlled, content pace.

I had no idea of what time it was, or how long I had been in 'solitary confinement.' The only way to tell time had been by _her_ weekly visits. Every 7 days – on a Monday, or so the personnel had claimed – the 'clinic' would receive a visit from a woman that went by 'Blue Sky.' When I had first heard _that_ particular nuance, I had nearly laughed at the irony that someone who titled herself such a thing would shroud another's view of the outside world. It was without question that she ran the facility I had been kept at, and even thinking of that dreadful place brought an ache to my chest. Ignoring the loss of feeling in my feet, I trudged on, narrowly avoiding a particularly pointy stick hidden by the wet slosh.

Skye, as I had so cleverly coined her, had attempted talking to me, almost as a friend, a comfort in such an isolated world, however she had quickly thrown that thought away, after a quick spit in the face showed her my opinion of her niceties. From that moment on, she attempted persuasion through different routes, some negative, and some positive. She would ask different things, such as what I had learned that week, what my home life had been like and what I thought of my new home, even about my magic. She would hit, slice, dice, and occasionally use her magic to control my body, making me hurt myself as the staff looked on in amusement, each time I responded to a question in anything less than a cooperative manner. When I was finally sick of being mutilated, and would give direct, polite answers, I would be rewarded with food, bandages, and on the very rare occasion, water – although I was only allowed that recompense if Skye was controlling my actions, a condition that I had no care for. There was no way of escaping with her in the vicinity.

Still, water was kept under lock and key around me, mostly due to the diminutive fact that I had complete control over it. Those guys sure were touchy about losing fingers. I had originally sought to learn takeover magic due to my idolization of Mirajane Strauss, The Demon of Fairy Tail, and had ran away from the Suta Orphanage located in the Land of Isvan in the hopes of finding her, and having her teach me her ways. However, the silver-haired mage disappearing along with Tenroujima in X784 quickly shot down that thought. With Mirajane gone, I was an 11 year old stuck in Crocus, with nothing but what I was wearing and I quickly found myself starving and freezing. It was around that time that I was picked up by a nice woman named Nadia. She taught me in the ways of caster magic, and educated me in controlling water until just after my seventeenth birthday. She fed, clothed, and raised me for six years, without a second thought, before becoming ill a few days shy of winter.

Taking her to an unlisted clinic was my first mistake. Not trusting my gut and walking right back out the sterile door was my second. Not running away after the receptionist pushed a scalpel right through Nadia's throat was my final mistake. Following that I was bound and gagged, and taken to the treatment room where the real horror began. That was the day I decided life wasn't fair. I fought back, without question, to the best of my abilities, however magic-nullifying cuffs were quickly placed upon my wrists, severely limiting my chances. That coupled with the fact that I just saw the most important person in my life brutally murdered had me almost completely compliant.

It wasn't until a few days later that I met Skye, I hadn't been spoken to or acknowledged at all during those chilly days and nights, but I had listened. Most of the chatter from the faceless people in lab coats was nonsense, not worth remembering, but upon hearing the schedule that the Clear Blue Sky was going to be following, I had resolved to count each visit as a way to keep time; a way to keep sane. After around the fifth visit, however, that thought quickly went down the drain. There was no point in trying to count weeks or months; the pain had me unconscious half the time. Eventually I gave up fighting and just conformed to the questions, to the experiments. When I didn't fight, they gave me anesthetic. They never told me what they were experimenting for, and when I didn't grow a pair of horns like Skye had, I stopped asking. Eventually though, after what felt like years, I got my answer.

Skye had walked into the treatment room where I was once again strapped to an operating table, with a glowing ball of magical energy in her hands. I had meekly questioned what it was, and she had smiled, almost motherly like, before telling me that it was a very special lacrima. I must've looked confused because she laughed again, before telling me that I had passed all of the facility's tests, and therefore extremely special. I remember snorting derisively, my first act of defiance since those first few visits, and getting slapped in the face. Skye snarled at me before ordering the lab coats into the room. Murmuring to forego the anesthesia and handing the lacrima to a man with a surgical mask on, she had left to view through the observatory. On the left side of the room there was a wall-to-wall mirror that I just _knew_ was double sided and could be used as a way to survey me. I tended to not glance over that way; I didn't want – or need – to know how unsightly I looked.

After that, a far-too-skilled-with-a-knife man cut a 5-inch cross through the flesh of my bodice, beginning at the bottom of my breastbone and ending at my belly button. That on it's own had me yelling in pain, but that was nothing compared to when they placed that_ thing _inside my chest, and buried it just underneath my ribs. After that it was just pain, seemingly never-ending, and all consuming. It was all I knew for days upon end. When I finally came to, Skye wasn't there, and instead there was a man, next to one of the surgeons. He had questioned as to my health, and how I was taking to the lacrima, before gripping my hand tightly and leaving. Remembering what had happened was what set me off, that was when all hell finally broke loose, and I broke the hell out of there.

That was five hours ago, and I had been running ever since. I clutched the piece of paper I was holding tightly to my chest, burrowing into the thick coat I had stolen. My feet were beginning to blacken now, but I had my destination in view, and wasn't about to stop now. Breathing a sigh of relief, I looked at the writing on the parchment I grasped so shakily. I read it for the umpteenth time that day, just to quadruple check that it said what I thought it did.

"_**You are in the country of Iceberg, head west,**_

_**and ask for directions to **__**Kurisutarukōvu, **_

_**once there, find Ur Milkovich. Tell her Silver sent you."**_

That was all that the note said, and while I had absolutely no reason to believe this wasn't a trap, I had resigned to putting all of my remaining faith into this stranger.

Walking up the stoop of the bungalow with shaky feet, I hesitantly knocked on the wooden door, praying I wasn't about to be hauled back to that dreadful place. After a few seconds, it the wooden barrier was pulled open, and I brought face to face of an elderly woman with narrowed eyes. Those eyes immediately became guarded upon spotting the state of me.

Clearing my throat under the scrutiny, I lowered my head slightly before whispering. "Are you Ur Milkovich?" My voice sounded foreign, even to me. It had been a while since I had last spoken, and my throat was scratchy, a testament to the shrieking I had been partaking in for the past week.

"Who's asking?" Her gravelly voice sounded suspicious enough for me to curiously raise my eyes.

"S-Silver sent me." I sounded less confident; even though I spoke at a higher decibel, but the way her eyes widened in disbelief diminished even that slight poise I had attained. I began to back away, and was just getting ready to turn and run when she spoke again.

"Why?" The suspicious tone had been replaced with interest, and I found myself walking back up the steps to the bungalow door.

"H-he said you would be able to help me." Her eyes narrowed again, and I quickly continued, "He said you would know where to send me. He called me the…"

"The what?" She questioned harshly. I lowered my voice back into a whisper, and mumbled my response. "Speak up, child!" she chided. Flinching, I did as she asked.

"He called me the Blood Dragon Slayer." If possible, her eyes widened even further, and she quickly pulled me inside, before shutting the door.

"Sit down child, I'll make you some tea. Are you hungry?" At that point I realised just how truly famished I was. I was unaware of exactly how much time had passed since my last proper meal, and nodded quickly, amazed at the change in attitude from this woman. Nodding, she pushed me into a small kitchen, where she sat me at a table, tsking at the sight of my feet, before getting to work boiling a kettle. It was a while before either of us spoke again, but when Ur placed the steaming mug in front of my hunched body, I whispered a quiet 'thank you, Ur-san.' I blew slightly on my tea before taking a tentative sip, and then a huge gulp. It was practically heaven on my sore throat, and I lapped it up, drinking it all in one go.

She chuckled slightly, before sitting down across from me, "Actually, my name is Ultear; Ur was my mother. What do I call you, little one?"

Taken aback at this new information, I blinked, before answering her question. "Amara. My name is Amara."


End file.
